❝ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐲 ❞- ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxQᴜɪꜱɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ.
In the heart of Seoul, two strangers, Lee Minho and Han Jisung, are inexplicably united through their dreams. Every night, Minho, a software deve...
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♥༻∞ ʜᴀɴ ᴊɪꜱᴜɴɢ ∞༺♥
As I meandered through the narrow, winding streets of Bukchon Hanok Village, the weight of Minho's words pressed heavily on my mind. The village, bathed in the gentle glow of the street lamps and the persistent drizzle of rain, seemed to hold a mystic charm that echoed his descriptions. Each step I took was an attempt to stir the dormant memories of my dreams, to connect the fragments of feelings Minho described with any latent traces within me.
It wasn't that I doubted Minho's sincerity; his emotions were too raw, too vivid to be anything but genuine. The problem lay with me, with my inability to recall these supposedly shared experiences. Each morning after these dreams, I felt a comforting warmth and a poignant longing for someone whose face remained shrouded in the mists of my subconscious. This disconnect between what I felt upon waking and what I could actually remember was frustrating and deeply confusing.
The more I walked, the more the enchanting atmosphere of the village enveloped me. Minho was right—the place had a peaceful, almost otherworldly beauty that made it feel detached from the bustling cityscape of Seoul. Raindrops pattered softly on the traditional rooftiles, and the slick cobblestone paths reflected the ambient light, enhancing the ethereal quality of the evening.
As I continued down a sloping path lined with blossoming trees, their branches swaying under the force of the wind, a sudden, unbidden voice echoed in my mind—a happy, soothing tone that felt both familiar and heartwarming. Accompanied by a ripple of laughter, the sound seemed to resonate deep within me, stirring a sense of belonging I hadn't acknowledged before. I paused, looking around, half-expecting to see someone there with me, but the path was deserted.
Was I being delusional? The thought unnerved me as much as it intrigued me.
Then, in an almost cinematic moment, as if a switch had been flicked in my mind, a vivid flash of a dream burst before my eyes. For the first time, the face of the figure in my dream sharpened into clarity—the familiar voice, the warmth of his hand gripping mine, his backward glance filled with affection and promise. My heart raced with the shock and excitement of recognition.
Disbelief and wonder mingled within me. Could it be that these moments Minho treasured from our dreams were finally making themselves known to me? The realization was overwhelming, the implications profound. If these memories continued to surface, if I could fully grasp the connection Minho held so dear, what would that mean for our interactions, for our understanding of each other?
Just as the figure in my vivid reverie turned fully towards me, I caught my breath. It was Minho's face that materialized, clear and unmistakable. His bright smile and the sparkle in his eyes were so detailed and lifelike that it felt like he was truly there with me. My heart raced with the startling clarity and the emotional impact of seeing him this way, not just as an echo of dreams but as a vibrant, tangible presence.
